


Snowfall of Stars

by lemmaammel



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Academic rivals, Alternate Universe - High School, Enemies to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-27
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:34:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28368474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lemmaammel/pseuds/lemmaammel
Summary: George just wants to hang out with his friends, annoy everyone with the frequency that he mentions the Riemann-Zeta function, and avoid his long-time rival, Dream. Fuck Dream and his annoying freckles (which George definitely does NOT want to kiss).~~~~~~(excerpt)~~~~~~“He said that Selberg’s conjecture is inconsequential! He thinks the density of zeros on short intervals on the critical line is inconsequential! As if the distribution of primes means nothing for encryption and-”George hasn’t even gotten to the genius that is Selberg’s use of the lengths of simple closed geodesics when someone falls into step beside him. “Hey, George.”By the time Dream reaches over to grab George’s pencil with his stupidly attractive hands (fuck freckles), George has an escape plan. He’ll let Dream jabber on about “how George’s arrogance will lead to his downfall”, put on his noise-cancelling headphones, and spend lunch in the library.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 49





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> chapter 1 starting notes:  
> \- i only ship online personas (tbh i just wanted to write academic rivals to lovers fic lmao)  
> \- i suck and so this will most likely be ditched ½ way through be warned i have a reputation  
> \- everyone is mostly ooc  
> \- i overuse italics and math (i am a math nerd, fight me)  
> \- george and dream *hate* eachother ;)  
> \- this is a high school au  
> \- SENIORS: george, dream, sapnap, techno, bad, skeppy, wilbur  
> \- JUNIORS: quackity  
> \- FRESHMAN: tubbo, tommy

*****(chapter 1)*****

It’s sort of poetic. Droplets of white splash across the inky night sky, painting a vision of muted snowfall. Usually the bright lights of the city wash out the steady humming of the stars, creating a veil of darkness. Tonight, though, it’s almost as if millions of holes have been poked into the veil, creating a chorus of twinkling lights. With a sloping breeze dancing across the shadowed skyline and a warm hand tangled in his, it’s okay if this moment never ends. 

This respite is a drop of mirror-smooth water in a still ocean of darkness. Even the smallest turbulence, the most random of movements, could shatter the clear surface. He turns his head anyway, because this moment is impossible to protect and because the face of the boy beside him more than parallels the beauty of the stars. The lights overhead reflect the freckles that sweep across Dream’s cheeks and smatter his arms and neck with intricate constellations.

George wants to trace every one of them, but to do it he would have to let go of Dream’s hand, and that’s not an option. Dream is the only thing tethering him to this pocket of the universe.

“George?” Dream whispers. His head is still facing the sky, and George wants nothing more then to run his finger through the waves of his hair, down the slant of his nose, over the curve of his lips and-

“George?” Dream repeats, sitting up and gently pulling his hand away to lean back on it. When cold air hits George’s fingers, he can’t help but reach out. Hell, he’s too enamored to spare any thought for embarrassment. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. _Fallen in love_ , the voice inside his head (which sounds annoyingly like Sapnap) corrects.

When Dream finally looks over at him, George can hardly breathe. He’s rolling his eyes with a tinge of fond ( _fond???_ ) exasperation, but he’s still fucking _ethreal._ It’s not until Dream says, “George,” for the third time that his brain catches up.

“Um, yeah?”

“I beat you. I won the race.” _And your heart,_ internal-Sapnap helpfully adds.

“Whatever.” Part of George wishes he could go back to the strand of time where he thought of winning as something other than Dream’s lips against his own. Yep, he officially hates himself.

George is almost standing when Dream reaches out, slipping his hand into George’s.

“Help me up?”

Just an hour ago, George would have said no. But it’s rude to say no to someone who’s stargazed with you, right? There’s probably some social contract about it, he’s sure. Anyways, Dream’s hand in his is just _right._

They’re both standing, but George still feels the warm weight of Dream’s freckled fingers against his own. Everything is a beat off, from the stalled cacophony in his head (which, thank fucking god, drowns out internal-Sapnap) to the erratic noise of his heart.

“Thanks.” Dream still doesn’t pull his hand away. He hesitates for a second, a soft blush dappling the highs of his cheeks. “And, maybe we can do this again?”

“What?” Dream’s eyes dance like golden sunlight rippling through sweet honey. It’s official, George deserves a slow and agonizing death for this swooning bullshit. He’s _GeorgeNotFound_ for fuck’s sake, not some rambling fool. Before internal-Sapnap can interject, he continues. “Oh, I suppose I can clear some time in my schedule.”

**~~~(1 week earlier)~~~**

“George, chill. He’s just doing it to mess with you.”

“He’s so fucking stupid, Sap! We’ve been using Cauchy Induction to prove AM-GM since the 1800s and he has the fucking _audacity_ to say it’s archaic? And you won’t _believe_ what he said about the Reimann hypothesis yesterday-”

“I’m sure I won’t-”

“He said that Selberg’s conjecture is inconsequential! He thinks the density of zeros on short intervals on the critical line is _inconsequential_! As if the distribution of primes means nothing for encryption and-”

George hasn’t even gotten to the genius that is Selberg’s use of the lengths of simple closed geodesics when someone falls into step beside him. “Hey, George.” 

By the time Dream reaches over to grab George’s pencil with his stupidly attractive hands (fuck freckles), George has an escape plan. He’ll let Dream jabber on about “how George’s arrogance will lead to his downfall”, put on his noise-cancelling headphones, and spend lunch in the library.

He’s only just pulled out his headphones when his plan starts to fall apart. Tommy, the loud freshman gremlin-child, comes barreling down the hallway. “Big D! Good news! Very pogchamp!”

Dream laughs and flashes George a dazzling smile (that absolutely does _not_ dazzle George). “Okay, Tommy. What’s the news? Got a woman?” 

“I’ve got _all_ the women. I radiate big and massive mascline energy and the women cannot resist! Hey, Big D, do you want a woman? I can get you a woman.”

“I think I’m good.” Turning back to George, Dream raises his eyebrows as if they’re close enough to have inside jokes ( _which they’re not_ ).

“Ohhhh, Big D is in love with George Not Found. Very pogchamp indeed!”

“He’s not,” George intejects. “Sapnap, we’re leaving.” 

“My big and massive energy is too much for George Not Found. He is too stupid and dumb and stupid.”

And that’s his cue to go. After shaking Dream’s hand off of his wrist and grabbing a laughing Sapnap, George pushes past Tommy, eyes set on the library. One immature freshman won’t stop George from enjoying his peanut butter and jelly.

“Wait, Georgie, don’t leave! I’m in love with you!”

“No, you aren’t. Shut up, Dream.”

“You wound me ever so, o sweet Juliet.”

Fucking Dream. If anything, George is _Romeo_ , and anyways, referencing Romeo and Juliet without using iambic pentameter is practically analogous to stomping on Shakespeare’s grave. “I’m not Juliet, and this is not a thing.”

“If by ‘this’, you mean our budding romance, you’re correct. It’s a _concept_ , not a _thing_. Ugh, Shakespeare would be disappointed in your lack of linguistic knowledge, Juliet.”

George wants nothing more than to comment on Dream’s lack of iambic pentameter, but Sapnap’s current glee is too distracting. “Sapnap, stop fucking laughing.” He doesn’t. Loyalty is officially dead. 

“Yeah, Sap. The decision to start a relationship isn’t a fucking joke,” Dream adds, grinning at George. 

Although most of George’s pride has been destroyed by the blush covering his face, he’s determined to maintain at least an ounce of dignity. He turns to Sapnap, who’s still cackling from where he’s collapsed on the floor, and says, “If you need me, I’ll be in the library.”

“Oooh, George Not Found in a library, what will he do?”

“Read books, Tommy,” George deadpans. “I know this must be a new concept for you, but there _are_ people out there who want to mature and grow.”

“I fucking grow! I’m fucking massive, bitch! I’m too massive and large and massive and big for all of you!”

“Tommy, the fact that you couldn’t come up with 4 unique synonyms is telling,” George retorts.

“Telling? You know what I’ll fucking tell you, bitch? I’ll fucking-”

“Sorry, Tommy, but we’ll have to continue this another time. George and I have senior things to take care of.” And thank god for Sapnap.

With Tommy still shouting profanities in the background, Sapnap grabs George’s arm and drags him down the hallway towards the library.

“Your dirichlet series does a fucking awful job at approximation! Have you ever even _seen_ a Mellin transformation?”

God, George hates Dream.


	2. Communism... but with Flamethrowers

*****(chapter 2)*****

By the time 6th period rolls around, George is _exhausted_. If he can just make it through AP Lit, he’ll be able to go home, snuggle Cat, crawl in bed, and forget this day ever existed. If he’s lucky, maybe he’ll even be able to forget his own existence too. 

His teacher is rambling on about _The Lord of the Flies_ , and no matter how “iconic” and “subtly allegorical” it may be, George thinks it misses the mark completely. It’s supposed to be a parable about the inherent darkness of human nature or some bullshit, but it’s decently unrealistic for a psychological commentary. If the schoolboys were better socialized and they were raised in a functional (read: communist) society, George is certain things wouldn’t have ended so morbidly. If _George_ was stuck on that stupid fucking island, he’s sure _he_ could forge a successful society.

Dream leans across the gap between their desks and pokes George with his pencil. 

Correction: If George was stuck on that stupid fucking island _without Dream_ , he’s sure he could forge a successful society.

“What do you want?”

“You.” 

Willing the pink out of his cheeks (it’s warm, okay?), George turns away from Dream, who now proudly wears a shit-eating grin. “Fuck off.” 

“Woah, woah, woah. Here? In class? I didn’t make you out to be a voyeur, Georgie.”

“I didn’t make _you_ out to be an asshole. Oh wait, I did.”

“All I’m getting from this conversation is that we both really like making out.”

After a few blessedly peaceful seconds during which George ignores Dream’s comment, the pencil presses back into George’s cheek.

“Georgie, I’m bored.”

“Boredom builds character.”

“Character is overrated. Instead of building character, let’s build a fucking flamethrower. And speaking of character, let’s throw some flames at the stupid fucking characters who thought cannabalism was a good idea!” Dream points to his copy of _Lord of the Flies_ in emphasis.

The fact that he actually _agrees_ with Dream makes his stomach churn, but bashing literary characters is more interesting than listening to the mindless nonsense his teacher is droning on about. They’re seated in the back of the classroom anyways, far enough away that George is willing to bet that Mr. Palipo can’t hear them. George turns to Dream and says, “While you’re at it, throw some flames at the author as well. Honestly, the premise that humanity is inherently self-serving and evil is entirely close-minded.”

“If you support Rousseau, we’re breaking up.”

George pointedly ignores the implication that they have a relationship of any kind and says, “Debating Rousseau vs. Hobbes is pointless. Sure, industrialization sucks, but progress is inevitable. Instead of basing our entire philosophical framework on two dead guys, let’s talk about how to deal with the modern world, post-industrialization.”

“And your solution is…?”

“Communism. Democratic socialism, if you must.”

“It only works on-”

“On paper? There was a time when a fucking toaster only worked on paper, Dream.”

“But humans are-”

“Inherently greedy? Hm, I wonder if the subliminal capitalist propaganda ingrained into children since birth has anything to do with that. Maybe we’re all hyper-competitive because our society is constructed in a way that incentivizes greed.” Before Dream can reference human nature or some bullshit, George presses on. “Maybe we needed to encourage competition when we didn’t have enough resources, but we’re in the fucking 21st century, Dream! We have the industrial capacity to raise the standard of living 10 fold! If we stopped making excuses like ‘humans are inherently greedy’, maybe we’d be able to change the culture that _makes_ humans so greedy.”

“Fine, Georgie. If you really think communism could be successful, put your money where your mouth is. You have an A in math, I have a C. You’re the fucking math proletariate! If you really stand by ‘giving what you can and taking what you need,’ _give_ up your study time and let me _take_ your assistance in preparing for the test on Thursday.”

“That’s different, Dream, and you know it.”

“No, it’s exactly the same! You’re always saying that the rich have a responsibility to decrease wealth disparities, yet you won’t share your assets with the disadvantaged of society, ie, me. Your grade is high enough to be unaffected by one test, but my grade could be changed completely. It’s like… like Jeff Bezos refusing to give a family the loaf of bread they need to survive the winter, even though he has millions of loaves! If you won’t help me study, you’re no better than him.”

Fuck, he has a point. “Fine! Meet me in the library after school. And don’t be late.” 

“Wait, you’ll help me study?”

Part of George knows that this means that Dream has won in their exchange, that somehow this is exactly what Dream wanted in the first place, but George doesn’t want to think about that. “Yeah, fine. Whatever.”

“No Sapnap or Bad. Just us. I get distracted easily.”

George barely suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“It’s not my fault you’re so distracting.” And what’s George supposed to say to that? Besides the fact that Dream prides himself on his ability to irritate George, maybe this is why George hates the freckled boy sitting next to him. He’s just so undeniably _Dream_ , and it’s so unfair that he’s the only one that can tint George’s cheeks pink with only a few words. He’s always been the only one who sets George’s heart racing, and he’s always been the only one who can make the beat pause with a single glance.

It hasn’t always been like this, though. Sure, they’ve always hated each other, ever since Dream won the Science Fair in 8th grade (beating George by the smallest margin), but not like this. It’s just the constant _flirting_ that throws George off. It was better when it was just comparing test scores, arguing over chemical formulas and computer algorithms, and trying to one up each other during class discussions. George knows how to handle Dream’s sharp wit and dangerous intelligence, but this is something different. Something new that leaves George just the slightest bit unsure, like the whole world has shifted by a few degrees.

The bell rings, and Dream holds out his hand to George. “Library?” There’s a hint of amusement in his smile, almost as if he knows what George is thinking.

“I need to stop by the Chem lab to record some data.”

“I’ll come with you,” Dream says, his hand still outstretched.

“No. It’s for my final project, and I don’t want you copying my ideas. Wait in the library.” George knows that Dream won’t steal his research, but if he’s being honest, he needs some time away from Dream and his fucking freckles (which he does _not_ find cute). Just a few minutes, so he can collect his thoughts.

“Georgie, that’s not fair. If I’m not there, you'll talk to Mx. Halperni for an hour!”

Even though Dream is probably right, George ignores him and slides on his headphones. He slips his half-forgotten notes into his backpack and shoves past Dream. 

Through the headphones he can hear Dream shout, “Don’t forget about me!” Ha. As if that was ever a possibility.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's another update :D (and again, i love all comments, but suggestions / advice would be especially epic)

**Author's Note:**

> chapter 1 ending notes:  
> \- please comment it gives me life  
> \- this is my first dnf fanfic, be nice please :DDDDD  
> \- i'm planning on updating weekly, but no promises lol <3


End file.
